Jingyun Villas are the most prestigious luxury residential area in the capital, boasting greenery from an aerial view that rivals a city park. The spacious layout between villas, shielded by rare trees, ensures unparalleled privacy.
A Rolls-Royce turned into the broad private road as the black-and-gold wrought-iron gates slowly swung open. The car came to a stop in the courtyard.
"The young mistress is back," greeted four servants at the entrance.
The front door was ajar, and the faint sounds of a TV and chatter drifted from inside. After changing into slippers, Ye Shengsheng spotted Ye Huaisheng sipping tea on the sofa, a thick stack of documents resting on the coffee table.
The latest Korean drama played on the screen, while Ruan Qinglan sat on a massage chair, her eyes red and glued to the TV, so engrossed she didn’t even notice her daughter’s arrival.
With a tone laced with irritation, Ye Shengsheng announced, "I’m back."
The lack of any term of address made it clear she was genuinely upset.
Ye Huaisheng set down his teacup, removed his reading glasses, and flashed a doting smile. "Who dared upset our young mistress?"
Dressed in navy-blue pajamas, he lounged casually on the sofa. His strong, handsome features were betrayed only by the streaks of gray at his temples—likely left untouched after his recent two-week trip abroad.
Ye Shengsheng, who took after her father more in looks, tossed her handbag onto the sofa and pouted. "Your wife upset me! I went through something huge, and she didn’t even bat an eye. Now she’s crying over some Korean oppa!"
Finally tearing her attention away from the melodramatic screen, Ruan Qinglan rose from the massage chair and rushed toward her daughter, enveloping her in an exaggerated hug. "My darling, I missed you so much!"
Time had been kind to Ruan Qinglan—a natural beauty blessed by the heavens. In her early fifties, she could pass for her thirties. With a quarter Portuguese heritage, her fair skin and striking, deep-set features outshone even Ye Shengsheng’s. Back when Ye Huaisheng donated to his alma mater, he’d fallen head over heels for Ruan Qinglan, the receptionist assigned to him, and launched an ardent pursuit.
Most would’ve crumbled under the attention of such a tycoon, but Ruan Qinglan, raised on her grandmother’s love for Shakespearean romance, held out for a year—until Ye Huaisheng won her over by standing in a downpour, playing the tragic lover.
Their love story was, in short, ridiculously dramatic.
Ye Shengsheng rolled her eyes but still instinctively wrapped her arms around Ruan Qinglan’s waist. After a brief hug, her frustration lingered. "I went through something serious, and you two are acting like nothing happened..."
Ruan Qinglan patted her back before pulling away, scrutinizing her. "You look pale. Have you lost weight?"
Then, with a playful blink, she added, "But—perfect timing! I saw two haute couture pieces in XS at a fashion show. I thought even if I couldn’t wear them, they’d look gorgeous in the closet. Now they’re yours!"
Only Ruan Qinglan could prioritize whether her daughter could squeeze into a tiny dress at a time like this.
Ye Shengsheng’s delicate brows furrowed as she flopped onto the sofa, sighing theatrically. "Dad, look at Mom!"
Ye Huaisheng, ever the devoted husband (which explained Ruan Qinglan’s carefree personality), quickly defended his wife. "Zhu Xiangnan brought Zhu Ze over this morning. Your mother gave them quite the cold shoulder."
Clutching a pillow, Ye Shengsheng stared blankly, her lips pressed into a thin line. "What did they say?"
Ye Huaisheng straightened leisurely, sipped his tea, every movement exuding refinement. "What could they say? They came to apologize, saying Zhu Ze is at your mercy."
She tightened her grip on the pillow and scoffed. "Pretty words. If I hired eight bodyguards to beat him up, would Uncle Zhu agree?"
The sofa dipped as Ruan Qinglan sat beside her, nodding fiercely. "Exactly! He deserves a beating."
Ye Huaisheng interjected calmly, "I understand your anger, but punishing Zhu Ze must wait. Not now."
With their families’ interests deeply intertwined, outright hostility wasn’t an option—at least not before untangling their business ties.
Ye Shengsheng met his gaze. "What about the engagement?"
"Cancel it, of course!" Ruan Qinglan cut in, her tone fiery. She was never one for corporate maneuvering. "I only agreed because he pursued you relentlessly and you didn’t dislike him. Now that he’s proven himself a scoundrel, he’s unworthy of my daughter!"
The tension in Ye Shengsheng’s brow eased slightly, but she waited for her father’s final word.
Under her expectant gaze, Ye Huaisheng nodded.
The weight in her chest finally lifted.
Relieved, Ye Shengsheng looped her arm through Ruan Qinglan’s. "Mom, where are those dresses? I want to try them on."
As for Bian Che—she’d made up her mind last night. His blackmail demand for 70 million over some photos? With his family’s resources, he’d find a way out.
That three-day ultimatum could go to hell.
The next day, to compensate for his daughter’s distress, Ye Huaisheng booked her a flight to Hong Kong for a Christie’s jewelry auction.
The storm brewing in the business world was no concern for the women. Ye Group’s European chemical project relied heavily on Zhu family funding. Terminating the engagement meant scrambling for new investors—a problem he’d handle alone.
...
"My good opinion, once lost, is lost forever."
The deep male voice jolted Ye Shengsheng awake as the plane shuddered through turbulence. She tugged off her sleep mask, wincing at the sudden light, and steadied her racing heart.
On the first-class screen, Pride and Prejudice played—the scene where Mr. Darcy rebukes Elizabeth. Glancing at her phone, she found it unlocked, still displaying the ruby jewelry she’d browsed before dozing off.
A flight attendant approached, soothingly explaining, "Just some turbulence. Nothing to worry about."
"Mm." Her dark eyes, glazed with sleep, and the tiny beauty mark on her nose gave her a drowsy charm. The four-hour flight from the capital to Hong Kong had left her groggy.
Kneeling beside her, the attendant asked, "We land in thirty minutes. Would you like a snack? Today’s caviar is excellent."
The eagerness in her voice was unmistakable.
This young mistress had bought out all six first-class seats to ensure undisturbed rest—a display of extravagance that spoke volumes.
Ye Shengsheng, now slightly hungry, smiled. "Sure."
She ordered champagne and politely sampled the caviar before freshening up in the lavatory. Returning to her seat, she found her phone lit up with five or six messages—all from her best friend, Fu Zhicheng.
「Lion.jpg」
「Elephant.jpg」
「Leopard.jpg」
"African Buffalo.jpg"
"Rhino.jpg"
"Ahhhhhhh, Shengsheng, I finally collected the Big Five of Africa!"
Ignoring the other's excitement, Ye Shengsheng typed a few icy words with an expressionless face: "Whatever makes you happy."
Fu Zhicheng, sensing the young lady's lingering anger, quickly called her with a voice call: "Shengsheng, I'm sorry! This was too last-minute. Next time, I’ll definitely go to Hong Kong with you."
Ye Shengsheng pressed her fingers to her temple. "No need to apologize." She had no intention of forgiving her anyway.
The words dripped with irritation.
"I’ll bring you a gift—just name what you want… Though rhino horns and ivory are off the table..."
After a long silence, Ye Shengsheng remained in the same posture, replying nonchalantly, "Since you’re so sincere, how about picking up some crushed diamonds for my manicure when you pass through South Africa?"
Real diamonds for a manicure?
Fu Zhicheng’s neck stiffened, but she couldn’t argue. She could only agree miserably.
She enthusiastically described the grandeur of the wildebeest migration, but when Ye Shengsheng showed no reaction, she abruptly changed the subject: "I was scrolling through my feed today, and guess what? Bian Che—"
Click.
Without warning, the call disconnected.
At the same time, in a first-class seat, Ye Shengsheng tossed her phone aside in frustration, turning to glare out the window. Three seconds later, she couldn’t help rolling her eyes.
Why bring up that name?
Ugh!
Late August in Hong Kong was sweltering, with the observatory forecasting evening showers.
On the seventh floor of The Henderson, Christie’s Autumn Fine Jewelry Auction was underway—an exclusive game for the moneyed elite. Dazzling jewels changed hands in a flurry of bids, transforming from art into strings of numbers.
By the time Ye Shengsheng arrived, the auction was halfway through.
She strode past the lobby without a glance, her heels silenced by the plush carpet. Only the delicate chime of her stacked bracelets drew admiring gazes.
The air conditioning was frigid in her seat. Wearing just a sleeveless top, she accepted the blanket offered by an attendant.
A glance at her wristwatch confirmed she was right on time.
Just then, the screen switched to the next lot. The auctioneer’s voice rang out: "The final set of this auction—a Burmese unheated pigeon-blood ruby..." As the details magnified on screen, the ruby, encircled by marquise and pear-shaped diamonds, gleamed with flawless clarity and brilliance, instantly captivating bidders.
The auctioneer announced: "Starting bid: 30 million."
"32 million."
"34 million."
...
"38 million."
Bids poured in from every corner, the price climbing in real time. Online buyers, watching the live stream, joined the frenzy.
Ye Shengsheng raised her slender wrist, lifting her paddle. "40 million."
This set was her target.
Not just for its unheated pigeon-blood quality, but because its numerical codes felt personal—the ring’s 6.2 carats, the necklace’s 26 stones. June 2nd was her birthday. It was as if fate had designed it for her.
But as the auction’s cover piece, competition was fierce. By 60 million, only one bidder remained—a professional proxy, phone glued to his ear.
Ye Shengsheng sat unshaken, not sparing him a glance as she raised her paddle again and again.
Auctioneer: "80 million, back to the lady. Any further bids?"
"85 million." The phone bidder didn’t hesitate, clearly unfazed by the price.
Now, each increment was 5 million. Whispers rippled through the crowd, eyes darting toward her.
Dropping millions on jewelry was nothing unusual for Ye Shengsheng. Without batting an eyelash, she countered: "90 million."
"95 million." The rival bid came instantly.
She ignored it, lifting her paddle once more.
Auctioneer: "100 million, back to the floor."
This time, the proxy didn’t bid. Instead, he made a jaw-dropping gesture.
?? Sky Lantern.
Gasps erupted.
Ye Shengsheng’s lips pressed into a line. She knew she’d lost.
"120 million, once."
"120 million, twice."
"120 million, final call."
"Congratulations to our phone bidder."
The gavel’s thud echoed like a blow to her chest. Shrugging off her shawl, she stood and left.
With the auction dispersing, crowds flooded out. Not keen on lingering stares, she slipped on sunglasses and waited for her driver in a quiet corner outside.
The 38-degree heat, paired with rush-hour gridlock around The Henderson, only worsened her mood.
Losing her treasure felt unbearable.
A screech of tires made her frown.
A pitch-black Koenigsegg wedged itself between a flower bed and a BMW, maneuvering in the tight space with three awkward turns before barely scraping free. Onlookers winced.
What terrible driving.
Just as she looked away, the scissor doors lifted, and a man unfolded himself lazily from the car.
Leaning against the door, he took a call, the breeze ruffling his T-shirt collar. Sunset outlined his sharp jaw and high nose bridge.
The shifting crowd obscured her view. Adjusting her sunglasses, she squinted—
Bian Che.
Why won’t this man disappear?
Instinctively, she yanked her glasses back down and veered the other way, ducking behind a pillar—somewhere he couldn’t see her, but she could observe.
She wasn’t avoiding him. She just refused to be blamed for his scandals.
Then, the fiery clouds deepened, and the air grew heavier.
A man hurried from the lobby, carefully carrying a box toward Bian Che.
It was the proxy who’d outbid her.
Under the gathering dusk, Bian Che hung up and—right there, in plain sight—opened the jewelry box.
Even in the dim light, the pigeon-blood red glared back, stinging Ye Shengsheng’s already burning eyes.
Without hesitation, she switched to full combat mode. Her heels clicked sharply across the pavement before halting at his car door:
"Why did you steal my ruby?"
